This Is My Sundown
by Snotty Mcgee
Summary: A story which involves vampires, love, and just a pinch of memory-loss. Claire/Shane, Claire/Myrnin
1. Death Has 20-20 Vision

Claire became aware that she was conscious when she felt the pain. Acute pain, in her back and neck. Especially her neck. She groaned and tried to rub the stiffness out of it, but her hands came up short with a painful jolt.

It was hard for her to turn her head, but when she twisted around she could see the chains wrapped around her wrists, pinching her skin and tethering her to the iron loops set into the wall, her arms above her head. There was fresh blood leaking down from her torn wrists, following the trails of dried blood which already stained her arms. The metal was still digging into her wrists, and Claire shifted, trying to get her feet under her and take the weight off her arms. She felt a stabbing jolt of panic when she discovered that her captor had secured her in such a way that it was impossible for her to stand without literally dislocating her shoulders.

Claire looked around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. She was in a small, concrete room, dimly lit by a single bare bulb hanging in the centre of the ceiling. There was nothing in the room except a single wooden chair, positioned in front of her and to the left, facing towards her. She had a strong impression that, not long ago, the chair had been occupied. By whom, she couldn't think.

A door with a small barred window in it was directly opposite her, but she could see nothing through it.

She didn't know how long she'd been there; she couldn't even remember how she'd _got_ there. There was no natural light in the small room, no way of telling the time. Her hands had gone numb, but they began to tingle and spike painfully now, returning to life as she wriggled them in their restraints.

A noise rang out suddenly in the silence. Footsteps, echoing down a corridor. Claire heard them coming closer, and then stop as a shadow fell across the window in the door.

She shrank back instinctively, pressing herself against the wall even though she knew it was useless. So did her captor. She heard a low, sinister chuckle, and the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Silence for a moment.

Then the door swung open slowly, and for a moment all Claire could make out was a dark outline in the doorway. Then her eyes adjusted to the light, and she flinched unwillingly.

_Francois._

A slow, sick smile spread over his features.

"Hello, little Claire."

Francois stepped forward, purposefully shutting the door behind him with a loud click, letting her hear him lock it again.

"Aren't you _pleased_ to see me?"

He stalked across the room, watching her intently. He stopped when he reached her, crouching down in front of her. Then he leant in and inhaled deeply at her neck. Claire shivered, trying to pull herself away.

"Ah. I can smell your fear." He smirked, and trailed a finger in the blood dripping down her arm. She turned her face away as he brought his finger down to it, but he grabbed her cheeks in one hand and wrenched her back around to face him. Then he slowly daubed her face with her own blood, smearing it across her lips.

The smell of her blood made Claire slightly nauseous, but what Francois did next made her feel physically sick, her stomach twisting with it.

He leaned in, forcing her head to stay still, one hand tangled and pulling painfully in her hair, and closed his mouth over hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth as he kissed her roughly, licking away the blood he'd smeared there a minute before.

Claire whimpered, panicking and trying unsuccessfully to turn her body and head away from him. Her eyes widened in fear as his grip just became even more painful, and she felt his fangs scrape her lip just before he let go, shoving her back. Her head hit the wall with a dull crack, and she groaned.

When she opened her eyes again, Francois was sitting on the wooden chair directly in front of her, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. The way he was watching her made her stomach give a sickening, dread-filled lurch, and the colour rise to her cheeks.

"I was your first, wasn't I, Claire?" He murmured, his voice low, a cat-like smile curling on his lips. "The first to..._taste_ you." He dropped to a whisper, and Claire tried to suppress a shudder. His smile grew wider. "Never forget that."

She closed her eyes briefly, and took a calming breath, trying to quash the horror which gripped her mind.

"What do you want with me?" Her voice shook.

Francois seemed almost disappointed to be reminded of his purpose - the point to her kidnapping.

"Answers." He said, shortly.

"I don't know anything." Claire said, automatically.

"No, no. That will never do. I hope you will think about the answers to my questions a little more carefully than that." The chair creaked slightly as he leaned further forwards, putting his face a few inches away from hers. Her blood was smeared on his lips. "Here's the first one. Where is Bishop being held?"

Claire blinked. _Bishop?_

"I...I don't know."

Francois growled, and a small squeak of fear escaped her. "I don't! Amelie - I heard her say that he was being kept in a cell - a prison- but I don't know where, I don't!"

"Enough! Next question. Where is the cure?"

Claire's heart sank.

"I don't..." She trailed into silence at a warning snarl from Francois. "I- don't think there's any left. I mean, Myrnin's blood was the cure, but it won't be anymore because it's been too long and it will be out of his system-" She broke off with a gagging sound as Francois' hand closed around her throat. His narrowed eyes blazed into her as he ground out his words.

"I'm beginning to think this was a waste of time. I thought you were well informed. You are their favourite _pet_, after all." He sneered.

Claire's eyes widened as his grip tightened, and she shook her head frantically, her throat convulsing in an attempt to get air. Francois' fingers squeezed closer and closer together, until the edges of her vision began to go grey. He leaned in again to speak into her ear, but his words were almost lost to her. Almost.

"I will _end_ you, you little bitch. But I'm going to cause you so much pain first."

Claire made a choked sound of fear, her ears popping, and the vampire's grip on her relaxed slowly, just enough for her to be able to breathe.

"If you tell me what I need to know, maybe it won't be so bad for you. Maybe."

She whimpered, her breaths coming in little gasps as his hand disappeared from her throat completely. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she sobbed once.

"I- don't -...know anything." Claire's broken voice was barely audible, but he heard it. Francois slapped her, hard, his hand connecting with her cheekbone with a loud crack. Her head hit the wall again.

A trickle of blood ran down the side of her head and into her eye, turning her vision briefly red before she blinked it away.

Francois snarled, and then whirled around and left, slamming the door hard behind him. Claire sagged, relief and despair washing through her body at the same time. She sobbed again, a high, keening sound of confused, hopeless misery. Her body shook with pain and fatigue. The trickle of blood reached the corner of her mouth, and the taste of it made her nauseous.

Claire didn't know how long he left her in that room. Two days, three? Francois visited her twice more that she could recall, and each time she told him the truth, with increasing desperation and a mounting sense of dread. Each time he got angry, and hurt her. She drifted in and out of consciousness, hunger and pain curling around her beleaguered brain in a never-ending circle every time she woke. When was the last time she had eaten? How long had she been here? What was going to happen to her? What was everyone thinking? Her stomach clenched painfully as she thought of first Shane, and then Myrnin, and she felt bile rise in her throat.

"Oh, God…"

The words slipped from her mouth without her really registering it, and for a moment she saw their shapes darting around in the air. They formed a dark shape in front of her unfocused gaze.

"Are you ready to tell me anything yet, little Claire?"

A low, menacing voice, and an impossibly gentle hand caressing her chin. She shook her head jerkily, her eyes widening as she tried to bring the figure into focus.

Myrnin's soft features buzzed into view, his dark eyes imploring her, a sad smile on his face. Her lips moved, shaping his name silently. He leaned towards her, and for a moment she strained towards him, too. Then he snarled, his eyes blazing red and his fangs snapping down. Faraway pain shot down her left arm and she gave a hoarse cry, her voice weak. Her eyes were fixed on Myrnin; his face was contorted in rage, but his eyes still seemed to plead with her.

Then his features shifted, momentarily snapping into another person altogether. Claire whimpered, trying desperately to keep her vision in place. He was slipping away from her now as he drew nearer in slow motion, fangs bared. It was Francois who buried his teeth into her neck.


	2. Jesus Couldn't Save Us All

She lost consciousness again, and when she woke, she was alone.

The only sound was that of her own breathing. It was wheezing.

Claire frowned. Surely that wasn't good?

She shifted experimentally, but although her body shook violently as she did so, she felt nothing. No pain, just dull aches. In her neck, in her arm, in her chest. The rest of her was numb.

Time passed, and she thought she heard the door open. She wasn't really sure. Then she heard a voice, but she couldn't make out the words. No, she couldn't understand the words. Claire blinked, aware in some part of her mind that she was seriously hurt. Possibly dying.

She laughed humorlessly, and it came out choked, rasping through her lungs. The voice came again, louder and sharper this time.

Claire tried to lift her head to see who was speaking but none of her muscles would obey her commands and she watched as the patch of dusty floor in front of her swam in and out of existence. A pair of feet came into her view, and then a man crouched down in front of her, bringing his face close to hers.

"Did you hear me?" He snarled. "I said that I have no further use for you now." The words were distorted as if she were hearing them underwater. He shook her, hard, and her head flopped on her shoulders. Suddenly she was looking up blinking blood out of her eyes, and the man was smiling viciously, and she thought maybe she'd lost consciousness at some point but she couldn't be sure. "You're going to die anyway." He said. "I'll be doing you a favour."

Claire stared at him blankly as his words filtered through her brain. Her eyes widened slowly, panic rising in her chest from wherever the rest of her consciousness had disappeared to.

"Hold still, this won't hurt much."

She tried to scream, but her breath was coming too short. Even as she struggled feebly, her vision was starting to go black.

_I'm going to die._

Claire felt the sting of Francois' fangs in her neck, but her mind had already started to drift away. The fear, however, had not. It was consuming her, tearing a raging path of destruction through her body, and she clung to it, the last, spider-web-thin thread of proof that she was still alive. She could feel the darkness, feel _death _pressing down all around her, suffocating her as she tried desperately hard to cling on. Blood bubbled into her mouth and she gagged, choking. Cruel fingers were closing around her throat, trying to squeeze the last threads of life from her.

She refused to shut her eyes, though her eyelids had turned to lead.

He appeared then, as her will disappeared, and a faint, rueful smile curved her lips.

_If only._

Claire kept her gaze fixed on him as she slipped; kept her gaze fixed on this apparition. On the impossible Myrnin that stood before her, blazing in fiery wrath.

The Myrnin that was, even now, ripping Francois away from her prone body with all the ferocity of a wild animal protecting its mate. The one whose features were twisted in rage as he tore the other vampire's head from his shoulders. The one who was rushing towards her now, his face changed completely, his lips moving frantically without a sound, tears slipping down his face as he cradled her head in his hands. Whose desperate expression she saw change as she hung there dying, becoming determined.

Claire looked as he said something to her, stroking the side of her face. She might have leaned into the touch, desperate to feel it just once – but what did it matter now? This Myrnin whom she had conjured up was talking to her still, and she focused on his eyes even as her vision began to go grey. They were wide and dark and desperate, and they were begging her to stay as he lifted his wrist and bit into it, then pressed it to her mouth.

She could almost feel his wrist against her lips, could almost feel the blood that trickled sluggishly down her throat. Claire let her eyes shut, finally, and waited for it to all go away, calm now. But something was wrong. She wasn't floating anymore; she could feel something dark pulling, pulling her down. Tethering her to life with a bond which was rapidly growing, twining around and choking the threads which had kept her before. It was all rushing back to her – the pain, the sound, everything.

Her eyes snapped back open, and Myrnin was still there. He was real.

And suddenly, she understood what was happening.

"_NO!" _The scream erupted from her torn throat, and she started thrashing wildly, trying in vain to turn her head away. Relief flashed sharply across Myrnin's face for a moment, but she felt him press his wrist harder to her mouth, forcing more blood down her throat. She choked on it and retched, tears forming in her eyes. Her throat seized up, and she couldn't speak, and then suddenly she couldn't move. Her muscles froze, paralysing her, and then the most excruciating pain she had ever felt began to burn in her throat. It spread agonizingly through her whole body, waking up her numb limbs, coursing through her veins. Her back arched in pain for an unbearable moment, and she felt herself writhing as her bones cracked and snapped, repairing themselves moments later.

The pain escalated, and something in her brain shut down. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, and she went limp.

Everything was a blur of agony, but at some point she became aware that the dredges of pain were retreating, withdrawing to one point in her body. The burning pain in her throat was heightened until the flames which were licking her oesophagus became too much. Claire screamed soundlessly, writhing as her hands scrabbled uselessly at her neck. She had to do something – anything – to relieve this pain. Another scream convulsed her body, and her world narrowed down to the only thing she had left, the thing driving her to survive; instinct. She opened her mouth and bit down on Myrnin's wrist.

The fresh blood seemed to explode in her mouth, almost instantly quenching the flames that burned there. It soaked into her tongue and ran down the back of her throat, the taste alone sending shivers of unwilling pleasure down her spine.

Claire drank heavily, not thinking about what it was she was doing. The pain had been all-consuming; now it was almost gone. All too soon, Myrnin pulled his arm away gently. She whimpered and craned her neck, searching blindly again for that source of relief.

"Claire."

She flinched at the sound of his voice, unused to hearing things quite so clearly.

"Claire, look at me." His voice was softer this time, and reassuring. She opened her eyes slowly, fearfully.

The first thing she saw with her new vision was Myrnin. She breathed in sharply, her eyes widening. She could _see. _

She could see every pore of his skin, every contour of his face. She could see a thousand colours in his irises, and she could see the dust motes swirling in the air between them. Her breathing accelerated, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

_This wasn't real. It couldn't be._

But when she opened her eyes again a moment later, the world was still surreally detailed, and Myrnin was still crouched in front of her, his expression guarded.

"Claire?" He whispered. She stared at him, her mind reeling. Myrnin waited patiently, waited for her to say something.

Claire waited, too. She waited for the anger, for the sadness, for the grief, for fear, for anything. But nothing came. She was numb. She was in shock. She was a _vampire._ Something stirred in her stomach, some emotion – and she clamped down on it, not wanting to feel.

Myrnin's gaze was on her, and she met his eyes, her mouth opening and no words coming out. Eventually, she simply shook her head.

He stood up, pausing for a moment before scooping her into his arms. Claire let herself be drawn up, her head drooping onto his chest. Her eyes stared blankly at the pale hands clasped over her stomach.

Myrnin kissed the top of her head, murmuring into her hair.

"It's going to be OK, Claire. I promise."


	3. God Knows I'm Good

Claire woke, and was instantly alert. Something was wrong. She wasn't at home. The ceiling she was staring up at was unfamiliar, and she froze where she lay as the first bubbles of panic began to rise in her chest.

There was a blanket draped over her – no; blanket_s_, plural. They were tucked loosely around her, but not so tight that she was restricted. That was good.

She felt – strange. She remembered- Francois. The pain. The blackness that had threatened to crush her. And then… and then it had lifted, somehow. Claire shivered, and stiffened as she heard something. A creak, to her left. Someone shifting.

She turned her head.

"Hello?" Her voice was hoarse with fear, and her throat was sore. No, not sore. It _burned._

_Am I ill?_ _That would account for the throat. And the confusion. Maybe I'm delirious._

Myrnin had been sitting in an armchair next to the sofa she lay on, watching her. But when she spoke he stood up, and came to crouch next to her head. His pupils were wide and dilated as he looked at her, and she noticed for the first time how many different colours were swirling in his irises.

_Heterochromatic. How did I miss that before?_

"Claire?" He whispered, his hand hovering by her cheek. "How do you feel?"

Was there a note of fear in his voice? She opened her mouth to ask him, and surprised herself.

"It hurts." She rasped. "My throat. It burns."

"I know."

She didn't think to ask how he knew, at the time. Everything was different. It seemed so real that it… wasn't.

"What…" She blinked slowly, and realised as she did that the light had been hurting her eyes slightly. She kept them shut. "…what happened? Where's Shane?"

Myrnin shifted again, and she felt the air move across her skin as he straightened up.

"You almost died." He said softly, ignoring her other question. Claire's eyes flew open, and she frowned, something tickling the back of her mind.

"And you saved me." She wasn't sure whether that was a question, or not. Myrnin glanced away from her, and then back.

"Are you thirsty?"

Claire breathed in sharply as he said it, his words seeming to reignite the flames in her throat and carry them into her veins.

"_Yes._"

Myrnin nodded.

"I'll be right back. Don't move, Claire."

This last sentence was said with an imploring note in his tone, and his dark eyes bored into hers for a second before he turned and left the room, disappearing into the kitchen at the back of his lab.

Claire pushed back the covers and sat up carefully, hissing as pain throbbed through her temple and her vision swam briefly. She looked blankly around the room, searching for something that would clue her in as to how she ended up there. Her memory was hazy. She could remember being captive somewhere, Francois interrogating her, but when she tried to think beyond that, to how she got there, she came up blank. Various memories seemed to swirl around in her mind but she couldn't settle on one; none of them seemed right.

_Amnesia, _her brain supplied helpfully.

Myrnin returned, and Claire saw the strange relief which flooded his features when he saw she had remained where he left her. He was carrying a sealed coffee cup in his hand, which he held out to her.

"Drink." He said. She hesitated, and he smiled encouragingly. Claire took the cup.

"What is it?"

"Nothing bad, I promise. Just drink it." He urged. She looked suspiciously at the cup in her hands, and brought it to her lips. Myrnin nodded reassuringly. Her nose wrinkled as she smelt the contents, but she tilted the cup anyway because of the ridiculously hopeful look on Myrnin's face.

The thick liquid inside was slightly warm as it ran over her tongue, and its sickly, metal-tinged aroma made her gag slightly as it filled her nostrils. Claire swallowed quickly, shivering in disgust. She felt bile rising in her throat at the taste of it. Something about it was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Myrnin, that was _disgusting. _What the hell is it?!"

The look of complete shock on Myrnin's face would have been comical if Claire hadn't just realised where she had tasted that before. She tore the lid off the cup, and stared at its contents in horror.

"This is _blood_." She said, and then raised her voice, standing up. "_BLOOD. _What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!"

Claire was shouting at him, but he didn't respond. He looked almost stupid, standing there staring at her with his mouth hanging open, jaw slack.

"But- I don't understand. You- you can't-"

"_MYRNIN! Listen to me! I-" _Claire broke off with a shocked gasp of pain. She brought a trembling hand to her gums, and recoiled from the sharp point of a fang pressing into the pad of her finger. She stumbled back, shaking her head in denial of what she suddenly _knew _was true.

"No. _ NO. _Myrnin…." Claire felt tears well up in her eyes, begging him to tell her it wasn't real, that she was somehow mistaken. He dropped his gaze from her. "_Please..."_

"I'm sorry." He said finally. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Anger rose up out of nowhere, more intense than any she had ever felt before.

"_SORRY ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!" _Claire screamed, snarling at him and then looking horrified with herself. Her hands rose to her throat. "What have you _done _?" She whimpered.

"I had to." Myrnin whispered, his voice cracking. "Please, Claire – I _had _to. You were going to die."

"Then you should have let me."

Her voice was so quiet, but in the silence of the room it seemed to her to be horrendously loud. Myrnin shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. He took a step towards her, his hand stretched out to touch her arm.

"No, Claire. Don't say that. _Don't say that."_

Claire backed away from his touch.

"You should have let me die." She whispered, tears falling down her cheeks.

"_No!" _Myrnin thundered, striding towards her and taking her face in his hands. He forced her to meet his eyes. "You don't mean that."

Claire took a breath, ready to retort, and froze.

"I-" Her voice caught in her throat as Myrnin's scent hit her. She swallowed thickly, trying to shake her head, but her eyes were drawn to his throat, which was exposed above his shirt. Her pupils dilated, and Claire flinched as she felt her new fangs extend. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the veins she could see underneath his skin, couldn't stop herself inhaling deeply to catch his aroma.

Myrnin had frozen too, and was watching her with wide eyes.

"Claire?"

His voice seemed to snap her out of whatever sick trance she had fallen into, and she wrenched herself away from him, scrambling backwards until she hit the wall. Her breathing was heavy.

"What's wrong with me?" She whispered.

Myrnin didn't answer, just watched her.

"Myrnin?" Her voice was small and scared, and she started to tremble as he took a step towards her. "Stop! Don't-"

She flung her arm out and he caught her hand, holding it gently.

"Shh, it's OK."

He pulled her towards him slowly, and folded her into his body, arms wrapping around her. Claire's face was pressed into his neck. Myrnin stroked her hair softly, whispering soothing words that she only half heard. She shook her head, but now she could feel his skin under her lips, and God, her throat was burning. Claire found herself breathing in slowly again, and tried half-heartedly to pull herself away. Her head was spinning; she felt dizzy and confused, and was momentarily sure that she would have fallen if Myrnin weren't holding her upright. Her brain was going haywire, more questions at every turn. She had never been so close to Myrnin before; his body felt foreign pressed against her and she wondered briefly if it was because she was a vampire now that he suddenly felt able to pull her into his arms like this.

"Myrnin, I-" Her words were muffled against his neck, and she broke off, not even sure what she was going to say.

"Do you want my blood, Claire?" Myrnin's voice vibrated in his throat. He spoke calmly but Claire's fangs ached at his words, and her breath hitched at thought.

She could _smell _it, under his skin, so close – she wanted it, she wanted to taste his blood, she wanted to –

"Stop it! I don't - I _don't-_" Tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes, smearing wet onto Myrnin's pale skin. She tried in vain to push him away, but he remained steadfast.

"You do, don't you?" He said, his voice full of curiosity. Claire was mute; the only sound was that of her shallow breath hitching. There was a moment's silence, and then he spoke again, his voice a whisper. "Take it."

Claire whimpered; a vague protest. But her eyes were fixed on his skin as he lifted his hand and used his nail to make an incision at the base of his neck. Blood welled up slowly from the cut, and Claire was transfixed. Her mind went blank, and her world narrowed down to the slowly swelling crimson globe that trembled on Myrnin's skin. It suddenly burst over the edge of the wound, and her tongue darted out to collect it almost without her permission.

The taste exploded in her mouth, and she couldn't hold back the groan that rose in her chest. Her vision blazed red for a moment and she felt her fangs slide down. They sank into his neck easily, and more blood immediately surged up to the surface. Myrnin grunted, his arms tightening around her for a fraction of a second. Claire swallowed the thick liquid greedily, and it seemed to cool the fires in her throat as it ran down it, urging her on.

Myrnin's small moan twined with hers as she drank from him feverishly.

Eventually, she began to slow, the burning in her veins all but quenched. Her fangs retracted, folding themselves neatly back into her gums, and she licked the rest of the blood from the healing wound. She whimpered again when Myrnin made to pull her away.

"Claire…" His voice was quivering slightly, although she could tell he was trying to control it. Claire swallowed, her senses returning to her slightly, and backed away from him a few steps. She met his eye with trepidation, uncomfortably aware that something in their relationship had just been irrevocably changed. Her mind shied away from the connotations of what had just happened.

Myrnin gave her a genuine, if worried smile, and produced a handkerchief from his pocket, absently wiping the blood from his neck with it. As she watched, the bloodlust slowly relinquished its grip on her mind. Claire bit her lip, horror beginning to rise like bile in her throat. She took a step back, covering her mouth.

"Oh, _God_. I'm sorry, I didn't- I just-"

"That's quite alright, my little Claire." Myrnin murmured, looking at her with unconcealed interest. He looked at her sharply all of a sudden.

"My dear, do you think I could have a favour?"

Claire nodded numbly. She was past the point of understanding anything. Her whole frame was trembling slightly.

"Stay quite still."

He leaned in, brushing her hair away from her neck. His touch sent shivers down her spine, even though it no longer felt abnormally cold to her, and she fought the urge to flinch away. He bent closer, his nose skimming her neck, and then breathed in deeply. And again.

Then he straightened up. His pupils were completely dilated.

"Intriguing." He said, sounding a little breathless.

"Myrnin?" Her voice was impossibly quiet, tears beginning to brim in her eyes yet again. _This was all wrong. So very, very wrong._

His eyes turned towards her, but shehad the funny feeling that he wasn't seeing her. He answered her unspoken question, though.

"It appears that I still find your blood somewhat – appealing." He said, his tone a little strained.

Claire's mouth formed a little 'o', and, somewhere a long way off, she felt her overworked brain attempting to hang itself.

"But- how? I thought …vampires don't-"

"We don't." A frown creased Myrnin's forehead, and he cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something. His eyebrows shot up suddenly and he stiffened, straightening up. "Claire-"

"Myrnin, _what have you done_?"


	4. (I Am) The Opposite of Amnesia

Amelie stood in the doorway, staring at Claire with something close to horror on her features. There was complete silence for a moment, and then the Founder turned to Myrnin, her expression twisting in fury.

"What is the meaning of this?" She snarled, her eyes turning crimson. Her voice was dangerously low.

"She was dying when I found her, Amelie." Myrnin replied quietly.

"Then you should have let her die!" Amelie said sharply. Claire flinched as her earlier words were repeated, and Myrnin did too. For a moment, his eyes flashed and she thought he might attack Amelie, but then his shoulders slumped.

"….I- I couldn't." Myrnin whispered, his voice catching.

At his words, Amelie's expression changed almost imperceptibly. She was silent for a moment, watching him closely. Then:

"Oh, you fool." She said softly. Her gaze moved to Claire, and she shook her head sadly, "We cannot save everyone, Myrnin," Amelie said gently, "You should know that better than I."

Myrnin shook his head, denying her words.

"I saved _her._"

It was Claire shaking her head, this time.

"Myrnin-" She whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "-I didn't _want _to be saved."

For a moment, she saw Amelie's gaze focus on her, and something like pity registered on her features. Then she appeared to recollect herself, closing her eyes briefly.

"It is done. No matter how any of us may wish it is not so, it is done. We must deal with this as best we can." The Founder said, the note of authority back in her voice. Claire felt the overwhelming need to cry wash over her; it was as if it hadn't been real before – she'd still thought, somehow, that it could be reversed – but now she realised, with a pang of helpless horror, that there was nothing that could be done.

"Oh, my God." Claire choked, "I can't – my parents – _Shane_ –" She broke off with a kind of strangled gasp of despair.

"There is no use in crying, child." Amelie said bluntly, "Your parents and Mr. Collins will be informed of the…._circumstances. _In the meantime-"

"In the meantime," Myrnin broke in, "She will stay here with me."

Both Claire's and Amelie's gazes snapped to Myrnin.

"What?" They said simultaneously, although in completely different tones; Claire sounded completely aghast, and Amelie merely irritated.

"Claire must stay here with me, because I need to run some tests." He answered carefully.

"What tests?" Amelie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Myrnin cleared his throat, looking unwilling. His eyes met Claire's for a second, and realisation suddenly dawned on her.

_It's not normal for a vampire to like the taste of another vampire's blood. _She shivered involuntarily, and shook her head at him, her eyes widening. For some reason, Claire didn't particularly want Amelie to know what had occurred just before she arrived. Even the thought of it made her feel faintly sick, now.

But Amelie had caught their silent exchange, and her eyes were now boring holes into Myrnin's, her irises flashing dangerously.

"Myrnin."

He sighed, "It…well, it appears that Claire has a taste for blood." He paused, and continued hastily as Amelie bared her teeth. "Specifically, vampire blood."

There was silence, during which Claire stared at the floor, a deep blush rising in her cheeks. The sudden thought that it was Myrnin's blood which was colouring them made bile rise in her throat again.

"Are you sure?" Amelie said finally. Claire could hear the shock lingering in her voice.

"Yes." He nodded, "I gave her human blood first, which she rejected."

Claire squeezed her eyes shut.

"…Very well." Amelie said, heavily. "Claire will stay here while you run the tests."

"What!" Claire's head snapped up. "No! I have to go home!"

The Founder turned to look at her, her eyes blazing.

"You will stay here." She said coldly. Shivers ran down Claire's spine, but she didn't back down.

"I can't stay here," Claire replied stubbornly, "I don't even have a change of clothes, and Shane and Michael and Eve will be worried-"

"The members of the Glass house will of course be informed as to what is happening. I will arrange for Eve to pack you some clothes, and have them delivered." Amelie's tone was final. She turned to Myrnin. "This is your fault, and your responsibility. She is not to leave this lab."

Claire opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it and shut it again, fuming silently. Myrnin merely nodded, his lips tight and his expression grave. He bowed stiffly.

"M'lady."

Amelie nodded and turned, summoning a portal. Before stepping through, she looked at Claire for a brief second, and her expression softened slightly.

"I am sorry, Claire. I know this must be difficult for you. But you understand why I must do this."

Claire nodded, and the Founder stepped through the portal. It snapped shut behind her, and the lab was suddenly silent. A feeling of depression fell over Claire thickly and noiselessly, and she couldn't lift it.

Myrnin shifted uncomfortably as the silence stretched.

"Perhaps I should go to the Glass house and sort out the arrangements for the packing of your clothes?" He asked finally.

Claire nodded dully.

"Right. OK." Myrnin said. "I shall just be a moment, my dear. Make yourself at home. Mayhaps you would like to take a shower?" He waved his hands about a bit, in the direction of his bathroom. "You will find all the necessary accoutrements in there."

She nodded again, and attempted a smile.

"Thank you." She intoned. Myrnin nodded, and there was a second of heavy, awkward silence before he turned and fled, exiting the lab in a blur.

Almost as soon as he was gone, she deflated, breaking down into hysterical sobs which tore through her and left her gasping for air. Despair drenched her. She'd never felt so helpless and wretched in her life.

Claire cried until she had a headache, then stumbled to the shower, tears blurring her vision.

It took her a long time to work out how to use it in her numbed state, and the hose wouldn't spray anything but cold water at her for a good ten minutes. Myrnin didn't have much in the way of bathroom products, but they did the job. The soap was scratchy, but it smelt wonderful, and she was surprised to find conditioner as well as shampoo stacked on his shelves.

Claire spent a long time just soaking herself under the spray of hot water, trying to wash away the dirt and horror of the past few days. She even cleaned the grime out from beneath her fingernails, and washed her hair thoroughly, twice.

When her ears picked up the sounds of Myrnin returning to the lab, she finally, reluctantly, turned the water off and stepped out of the shower . He'd left out a towel for her and even a change of clothes to replace her own, which were torn and bloody. Claire wrapped the ridiculously soft, fluffy towel around herself, and then froze as she heard a familiar voice, raised in anger.

"Where the hell is she?!"

_Shane._

_Oh, God._

Then Myrnin's voice, "Boy, I suggest you calm down."

"Like hell I will!" Was Shane's retort. She could hear him crashing around the lab, and the sounds of doors being opened and closed violently. "What have you done to her? Claire!"

"I will not ask you again-"

Claire blocked out the rest of his sentence as she suddenly burst into action, hurriedly pulling on the plain shirt and black pants Myrnin had left out and then opening the door cautiously. Shane was standing with his back to her, fists clenched, confronting Myrnin. Myrnin's fists were also clenched, and he was speaking through gritted teeth. He caught sight of her as she appeared in the doorway, and nodded to her.

"Claire." He said, sounding remarkably calm considering that a moment ago he had been threatening Shane with death.

Shane span round. Claire's heart clenched a little at the sight of him, but she resisted the urge to run to him. He looked different, somehow. Older, perhaps. His hair was even longer and shaggier than she remembered, his eyes held just a little more pain.

"Claire-" He broke off with a choked sound as he saw her, drawing in a breath as if steeling himself, which she heard from all the way across the room. "Claire?"

She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable in the clothes she was only just realising must belong to Myrnin, picking at the hem of the shirt. A vague sense of confusion was manifesting in her mind. Why hadn't he run to her? Shouldn't he be pleased to see her? Relieved, even?

Claire felt thrown off balance, and found herself second guessing her reactions, unsure how to act. Something felt off but she didn't know what it was, couldn't _remember. _Perhaps they had argued the last time they spoke?

"Shane." She tried a smile but it felt wrong. Shane didn't return it, his gaze running over the shirt and the oversized pants she was holding up with one hand.

"It's true, then? You're- you're living with him?" His voice was controlled but the anger was there, barely hidden.

Claire glanced at Myrnin in confusion, and he nodded.

"Y-yes." She said, clearing her throat.

There was a moment as Shane stared at her. Her fingertips tingled and she felt her palms begin to sweat under his scrutiny.

"I see." He said, finally. Claire recognized his expression, could see that he was just barely keeping his anger in check.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't have a choice-" Claire began, feeling more than slightly confused.

"What do you mean, you didn't have a choice?" Shane broke in, some of the venom seeping into his voice, "No-one forced you to screw him!" He shouted.

Claire stared at him, aghast, shocked into silence. _What? _A fierce blush stole across her cheeks, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Myrnin beat her to it.

"How _dare _you?" The cold fury in the man's voice made Claire shiver, and she stepped forward, beginning to speak quickly before anything escalated any further.

"Shane, I don't know what you think's going on here but I can promise you that there is nothing between myself and Myrnin. You know that." Even the words felt funny on her tongue, ridiculous. Why was she even having to say that? Surely Shane knew, he _knew _there was nothing going on between the two of them.

Whatever reaction she had been expecting from Shane, it wasn't the bitter laughter now coming from him.

"Are you fucking stupid? I _know_, all right? I _saw _you!"

Claire frowned, completely thrown.

"What are you talking about? Saw what?"

She glanced at Myrnin for support, but he was staring straight at her with an expression on his face which she didn't understand but which made her gut twist suddenly in something like panic. She was beginning to feel as though she had been thrust unknowingly into one of those dreams where you can't get anywhere no matter how fast you run.

Shane had been speaking and her brain was only just processing his words, her eyes still on Myrnin.

"I saw you with him, Claire! I saw you two – you know what, you make me sick. I can't believe you're trying to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!"

The emotion in Shane's voice – hatred, bitterness, anger, hurt – all of it threatened to overwhelm Claire. She stared at him uncomprehendingly, feeling him slipping away from her but not knowing what to do about it.

"But I _don't_ know what you're talking about!" She cried, tears blurring her vision. She turned to Myrnin again, pleading. "Myrnin, tell him. Nothing happened – nothing's _ever _happened between us!"

Myrnin said nothing, but the way he looked at her twisted her gut further and she felt sick, physically sick. Why didn't he say something? What was he playing at?

Then he did speak, and Claire wished he hadn't because his words made everything so, _so _much worse.

"Claire, he _saw_ us." There was something wrong with his voice, something funny going on with his face, his expression as he looked at her, "There's no use trying to hide it."

"What?" The word came out on a sob. _Nothing made sense anymore. "_What are you talking about?"

Her voice seemed very far away from her, as did Shane and Myrnin, almost as if she were viewing them through a telescope.

Shane was shouting at her and he had never looked at her that way before, like he hated her – and then he was stepping towards her, his fist actually raised and Claire didn't move, she couldn't – _what was going on-_

There was a flurry of movement which seemed out of sync with the sounds rushing in her ears, and then the scent of blood hit her and Shane's nose was crumpled in on itself, blood staining his lips and chin crimson.

Myrnin's quiet voice was saying,

"I think you should leave,"

And then there was a noise Claire didn't recognise, not until a glob of red spit landed right under her eye. She reached up to wipe it off, staring dumbly at the red smeared across her fingers. When she looked up again she was alone.


End file.
